Waiting for the Sun
by Jenn2
Summary: After "As You Were," Buffy and Spike are through and all Spike has left to do is wait for the sun. Told through William, Spike's former soul(which he has not recieved as of this fic).


Title: Waiting for the Sun Author: jenn elise  
  
Category: Spike (mention of Spike/Buffy)  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine, nothing is mine  
  
***************  
  
The air is chilly, you can tell by the way the wind blows, by the way the grass curls close together, but you're too numb to feel it. You can barely feel the weight of the shirt on your back. Your dance with death is almost over, and you pity yourself. You're giving up, all because you'll never feel her again, her soft skin, her hot breath. You'll never hear her, panting, screaming, begging. But that's not what kills you. It's the power, the shear strength she gave you when you took her. She took that power with her the moment she turned her back in your face. You let her take everything else too.  
  
You should have sunk those teeth into that milky white skin when you had the chance. You were the 'Big Bad.' Now you're nothing but a fool. At least it would have been an honorable death when her thrashing body threw you into the fiery sunlight. At least you'd be more than a spineless coward. You would have gone down with the slayer.  
  
That's how you dreamt it from the beginning. A war of sex and blood, a slow fuck and quick slay. And in the end you'd be nothing but another cliché love story screwed into the ground, martyrs for your cause, a shitty Romeo and Juliet. That was your dream until I looked into her eyes. Every time you saw her, I saw her. Like a waking volcano you felt me rising in your still heart. You fought it, swallowed me down like a pill that was too large for your throat. And you choked.  
  
You hated that feeling. You wanted her and you cursed her for it. But it's I you really curse. I'm about to erupt and you still hate it. You still curse her because you fell in love. The first time you saw her fight, graceful as a cat, the first throaty threat she spat in your face.you wanted her. But you couldn't have her. You could have everything but her. The first time you heard that name, Buffy, you knew she was different, special. I could have had her, I told you that. You cursed me and my obsession with love. Who's the pussy now? I could have had her.  
  
Shame on you for listening to me. I'm just your dying, excuse me, dead soul. Shame on you. You wanted the light..you wanted to crawl back on your knees through the centuries and touch that creamy gold once more. I remember the light. But still.it is the dark you should have been seeking. That's where she lies. She hides in the sun, hides from the shadows she knows she longs to explore. They call to her.you call to her. But you left the shadows and she could no longer hear your voice. I tried to tell you.but that time you didn't listen.  
  
You should have pulled her back. You should have sunk into that milky white flesh and shown her what real darkness was. You could have had that real good day. You could have gone down with the slayer.  
  
Instead you waited like a puppy for a bone. You listened to my admonishments and none of my advice. You stayed and watched as her hair shone with the glory you could never feel. You waited.watched.wanted. Jealous bastard, you are. Standing in the crypt, icy cold nipping at your heels, golden warmth blistering your eyes. All you wanted was to be touched with that light, because it touched her. That's when I knew we'd lost her. When she for the last time revoked the darkness. She chose light. Jealous bastard, why didn't you pull her back, let the shadows consume her, consume the light? Why didn't you kill her when you had the chance?  
  
Now you stand here, waiting for the sun. Amidst the tombs and trees you pace and wait for that glory to come snaking across the ground, its wispy fingers grasping at your feet. You wait for it and I laugh. "Bloody hell, William," I hear you mumble to me. You still want me gone when I'm the one who gave you strength to stay alive this long. You thought she could have kissed you without me. Didn't you?  
  
A tear falls across your face and I feel the tears of so many years ago burning beneath it, their tracks long dry but the sensation is engraved on the skin forever. You flick it with your tongue and scratch at the mark you fear it left. Another falls and slips past your lip, when you close your eyes you can almost believe it.believe that it's the dripping blood. It was always that way. I felt the tears and you felt the blood. You felt the warmth and the thickness, the pain and the ecstasy of death. I felt the salt and the cold and the hollowness, the emptiness of this life and the one before.  
  
The sky is lightening now, you can feel a tingling in your bones. I feel it too, but to me it's the pleasure, to you the pain. To me it's an end to this prison, a key to paradise. For you it's a way back to hell. Maybe you can be the "Big Bad" there, without me creeping through your veins.  
  
It kills you, my taking happiness from your torture. I killed you once, I can do it again. Girls, that's what killed me, it's killing me again. She's killing me, she's killing you. We're not that different after all.  
  
But what's really killing you, you dirty child, more than love or lack of it, is that she won't miss you. All you wanted was to be hers, to crawl through her and plant a chip like yours. You were her bitch, why didn't that make you happy? You got what you wanted. But she won't miss you. You never really thought about that, did you?  
  
And suddenly you care. I can feel the fear creeping up your back. You feel it like worms on your flesh. "Damn it," you mutter at a tree root as it appears beneath your feet. I feel the grass under your palms, the dew soaks through you pants. You kneel, face to the ground. "Damn it," the words ring against the stones. Another tear escapes. It waters the ground. I fear a black rose shall forever grow from that bitter plot of earth. That will be your gravestone, that will be your memory.  
  
Will she know when she sees the thorns choking the rubble of her tombstone? Will she see your pain in the petals or taste the salt of your tears in the surrounding air? No. I felt that glimmer of hope in your brain, the one that said she might. You're pathetic. She told you that once, didn't she?  
  
I feel it, the pathetic quivering of your lip as you realize you never amounted to anything more than I did. Wasn't that the point? Weren't you supposed to be happier? It was too bad losing your soul didn't mean losing your feelings as well. Your anger did you real well in the early days, didn't it? As you ripped through Europe with flashing teeth and blood shot eyes, you felt like the fucking prince of darkness didn't you. But everyone always was a step ahead, a shoulder above, the "Big Bad." Pride goeth before the fall they say.  
  
More tears, Spike? More and more they rain from your dying eyes. One slithers down your neck, a blade against your throat. Don't you wish this were faster? I wish you could stay here forever, it would never be long enough for you to understand the agony you've put me through.  
  
I can still remember the last sunrise we saw. It wasn't long before Dru found you and turned you into this. You remember too, don't you? I was wandering the streets, thinking about her, just the way you do now. It was early in the morning and I was walking along the docks when the first shards of pink split the sky. Purple, gold and blue followed. The colors burned my aching head, love and pain killed the beauty. But now the memory's sweet, as all memories usually are. Only a stain of the bitterness mars that sunrise, a spot of black amidst the brilliant colors.  
  
I ache to see that again. Do you feel that? I can feel you. You're horrified at what I'm about to do to you, but powerless to stop it. You're hopeless, and you disgust me, more than you disgust yourself. You can't bear this cross any longer, but there's no one left to hold it for you. I've done enough, I've felt the weight, bruised my shoulders, bent my back enough for you. Feel that burn, the sting of the sacred wound on your rotting flesh? That's only a pinprick of what's to come.  
  
Still on your knees, you bloody fool? Maybe you should pray. Maybe a damned soul really can be saved. Isn't that what you thought? That Buffy could see you as a man? A fool you certainly are. Why aren't you laughing at this?  
  
I just thought of someone who will remember you. They'll remember you, and perhaps they'll even feel sorry for you, for your pathetic existence and even more pathetic death. But then again maybe they'll laugh too, or cry. You're a sorry excuse for a vampire, and they'll all remember you, remember how you disgraced their kind, your own kind. You'll be a legend boy, not for blood and railroad spikes, but for the shame you placed upon the vampire race.  
  
But you're not a vampire, well at least you tried to convince yourself you're not. You wanted to be the 'Big Bad' and you blame me for your failure. But it was more than I could have ever hoped for, to see you crying on your knees.  
  
Cry just a little more for me. Oh, pretty please. I've waited centuries to feel the hot salt against your skin. It's a wonder vampires have the ability to cry. You would think it would be one of those things, like holy water. But to you it is, isn't it? Don't be silly. You'll never be a martyr. You're not hero enough for that. You're the kiss that kills, the thorn upon the rose, not the Christ or the bloom. You're tears are just messy and scarring. I bet you'll still feel them even when you're gone.  
  
Do you remember hell? Do you remember the heat that embraces you, the cold you feel inside? Do you remember the pain? How could you? How could you remember any of that through all the pain you've caused? You think your heart is breaking now? Just you wait. You don't remember a hint of that pain, you didn't want to.  
  
But I remember it. I remember each pinprick on my spine, each demon face, each punishment. I know what it will be like for you. You fucking bastard, you don't have a clue. If you only knew you'd stay here and endure the heartache. You'd stay here and wait for her instead of standing motionless waiting for the sun.  
  
It's coming now. Closer. You see the sparkling dew. I can feel the fear ripping through your eyes. Your feet are leaden and you can't pull that combat boot off the ground and run. You're chickenshit, and that's what hurts you the most. You know this is wrong. You know you should just leave and go back to London, find one of your kind, forget about the goldie- locks defending the hell mouth. But you're too afraid. Afraid you won't forget, or is it fear that you will. You don't want to forget. I wouldn't have let you.  
  
But now you will. You'll descend to where there is no light, to where the darkness is maddening. And maybe that's where I'll be too, but I won't be with you. We're not the same. You are soulless, you have nothing to go below with. Maybe they'll make you a new soul, just so you can feel the consequences of your sins. But when they excommunicated me, William, they forgot a little piece, didn't they?  
  
You'll make them pay for that. That's what you think. But you know it's not true. You know it was your fault for listening to me. That's why you're here. You're here to pay. And I want to cry with you, cry tears of happiness. I get to see part of the punishment, I don't have to follow you after I know you've paid for something.  
  
Smell that? Sun on the grass, the new morning. It's a beautiful smell. I've missed the morning. Breathe deep. Look what you've done, you've tainted the freshness with your burning skin and the screaming of your brain. I can feel the pain, the slow tingling pins and needles stabbing toward your heart. Step from the shadows, you piece of shit. I'd give you a push, but I can't get that far behind you. Do it fast. You'd rather feel every inch of flesh melt away. Is this torture worth it? What is it paying for? Will it make a difference to anyone when you're gone?  
  
What's it going to be like when we're.  
  
**************  
  
Gone. Buffy's eyes searched the crypt, how could he just be gone. There was no note, there wouldn't be, not his style. He had no attachments, not any longer. She was just a girl now, just another girl who stomped on his dead heart. Now he was gone.  
  
Why did it matter? She had hated him, used him to hate herself, but still there was a lump in her throat every time her brain repeated 'gone.' There was an ache inside that she couldn't accept. She shook her head, her arms, and reached for the door.  
  
With one last look Buffy walked back out into the afternoon sun. She walked slowly away from the crypt, the dust and shadows clinging silently to her. She ended her walk at her gravestone. She didn't know what she expected to be there, but she knew that was where he would say goodbye. There stood a single black rose perfect in its ugliness. She bent down and stroked one of the petals. Savagely she pulled it from the ground and turned toward home. 


End file.
